11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep30. Dream Car: A transporter

31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.

41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations. My favourite place to BE is England.42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fishby Shriekback45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.

51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?

71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives. They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered. The End.

This has gone viral, and rightfully so! The video is of superhero, actor, and party-starter Pablo Woodwood, getting a party going on the streets of Brighton, England. What's so damned cool about it, is the old woman who seriously got into the whole thing and, even though she's obviously like 150 years old, let go of her walker and started getting the fuck down. Whoever this woman is needs to be celebrated and brought as much joy as she has brought to millions of people in just a few short days. Hell, she and Pablo have put a serious dent in my Professional Misanthropy, but I'm too happy to be angry about it! Watch it and groove on the frisson, peeps. You won't regret it. And, if you know who that old lady is, please fill us all in. The video is courtesy of Facebook user, Ezda Beevers.

I am kind of freaking out right now. At the age 5, I was enrolled in 1st grade, at which time I was swiftly and truly schooled by my classmates. I was not normal. Period. I wasn't allowed to dance to music like I'd always done before, without getting called names and being laughed at. My teacher gave me a time out for not being able to recite the Lord's Prayer, and when we were supposed to play games that called for teams, there was team A and team "Shit, she's the only one left." It was apparent, in no uncertan terms, that nothing about me was normal. And since my family moved around a lot, I wasn't normal at any school, so it had to be me, not them. I was given the advice to ignore it and they'd eventually go away, but they didn't. This ended, for the most part, while I was working at BMG, when I finally lost it on some asshole at J Records I was forced to work with. I had one more incident of bullying behaviour just yesterday, and I reacted viciously. To be honest, I can't remember everything that happened there, but I think I just on that thin line that separates verbal confrontation from physical altercation. Thirty-two (non-consecutive) years of bullying boiled up in my body, and I just fucking exploded. But I'm not here to talk about bullying. It seems I've done a lot of that since I've been on the Internet, and finding others like myself. The Island of Misfit Toys is a real place on Teh Intarwebz, located a little further north-west of Dr. Moreau's Island, and separated from Fantasy Island by the Sea of Dreams (yes, we can see y'all from from our winders). Enough of that, though. Let's get down to bidness.

I'm here to talk about feeling paranormally different since waking up on the 14th. The doctor said he removed 17 pounds of excess skin, fat, and other crap that wouldn't have ever otherwise gone away. I'm talking about hearing the nurse softly say in my ear, "breathe deeply", and then I woke up with parts of my body that have always been part of me since I began to gain more weight than other kids my age, at four years. The midsection of my stomach is mostly flat, but the lower part, the part that hangs down to your thighs when you stand, and makes you think that you have no lap whatsoever when you sit down - - well, it is gone. Totally fucking gone. Working on my computer has even changed, because my stomach was my prop, so I could work on my writing, promotions, and blogging while Smidgen curled up on my chest or upper abdomen. Now, I'm having dificulty trying to find a decent computer spot, so I can write this. I feel as though, if I were back east with the friends I have, I would hear them whisper about me not being me, reinacting one of the earlier scenes of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.

On 14 September whilst waiting to be rolled back to the operating room, I was lying on my back with my elbow and hands touching the mattress, or I had my fingers interlocked on my midsection, and my elbows just dangled at each side. If I wanted to put my arms at my side, then my elbows could touch the mattress, but my fingers wouldn't meet. I couldn't do both and I never could. It was just a fact of life for me, even after the gastric bypass surgery in 2004. Now, my elbows can rest on the bed and my fingers can interlock at the same time. The Mother Unit was amused that my discovery of this amazed me so much. I know that doesn't sound like much, but when you've never been able to do it before, it's kind of a thing. The effect on my lower back was nearly instantaneous. A lot of that pull is gone, which was the main purpose for asking to get the procedures in the first place. Total success, right there. Despite currently feeling as though I have been thrown into the Iron Maiden at an Iron Maiden concert, my back already doesn't hurt as much, and I'm hoping the pain will continue to wane as I heal. I can feel the difference in my knees as well.

Psychologically, the immediate effect has not been as positive as I would have liked, but that's not the doctor's fault. Everything he did was exactly the procedures he signed on to do, and he did them expertise. The thing for me, though, was that I went to sleep in the body I'd had for around 32 years, and I woke up a stranger to myself. I'm not doing as well as perhaps I should in respect to mentally catching up to the physical tranformation. There are differences you would never think of, such as, seeing my own "cho-cha" (thank you, Missy Elliott) for the very first time in my entire life. Only a few hours after the surgery has over, I learned the women's cho-chas were supposed to look like this. It is still quite a surprise, because most laypeople or medical personnel would never think that such a change would be shockingly phantasmagoric. It's as though the doctor pulled everything up. From now on, whenever I see some crazy person in the park talking down her/his pants, I'm going to wonder if they had a panniculectomy and abdominoplasty. Such a shock to the visual senses is bizarre and unsettling. On the other hand, I might be that homeless crazy person taking to her own privates sooner than later.

I was told that the surgery took hours because the doctor wanted to be as thorough as possible while he was working. Based on some of the surgery pictures he'd shown me during our consultation, I have no doubt he was thorough. In fact, I think he did more than was authorised, probably because he knew I might need it down the road. I was already dead to the world, so why not? After a little bit of online research, what little time I've been online, I'm thinking that that extra something was some liposuction, considering I have two balls that catch the bloody water draining out of me, and bruises that just won't quit on my lower stomach, thighs, and cho-cha. Everything is relatively level now. I had fatty bits on my back that are gone now, too. After all this heals I will appear to be, more or less, like someone carrying a few extra pounds, but nothing people would gawk or throw vomit fat jokes in her direction.

My entire dieting life, I was told to chant the mantra "there's a thin person inside me that yearns to get out!" I was conditioned to dislike everything about me that anyone could see, while striving to look like the ones who are always at the front of the line to get their kick in before the day over. I was filled with a hell of a lot of animosity by the time I was approved for gastric bypass surgery, so much so that I had before and after pictures taken in the event someone told me I looked good. My plan was to whip those pictures out and ask them what they thought now! Over a time, especially when Aunt Tudi's health started to decline, I just grew weary of my verbal fight with society, and just gave up on avenging the evil so quantumly ingrained in us all by this mockery of our exsistence.

But, the other day, I was told it was good to see me, a "much thinner" me. I didn't say anything then, because I've been feeling like every hell imagined in every dimension that could currently be calculated by any Physics Academic, and to be perfectly frank, I did not want to be in a tiff, or what have you. Now, I'm a tad concerned that, in my heart, I know I may throat punch anyone who has ever known or seen me prior to the surgeries, but still comes out with that programmed bullshit, especially if they refer to having surgies to assist me lose the weight that was killing me as "taking the easy way out." I am not above going all Jack Torrance with an ax on any motherfucker who crosses that line, and thanks to those oh so very easy surgeries and recoveries that were alllll done for cosmetic reasons and nothing else, I'm lighter, limberer, and enthusiastically motivated to shut you up by ripping your jaw bone off your stupid brainless head and feeding it to Toby. Strangers who do not know me will get you one free pass but, if a stranger proving how much of a douche nozzle they are by judging another within my earshot may very well end up in an intimate relationship with my shoes and elbows. I haven't forgotten all the Kung Fu I was taught, and I'll probably be able to do them better now. You can be my practice.

The flesh a person is in, is not that person, but it can affect them in unimaginable ways. I feel like a stranger in a strange land now. I can't quite grasp the extent of my aura. Toby caught a glimpse of mm the other day, and barked at me as though I were a stranger. I'm wondering how Smidge will handle seeing her new old bed, unimpressed that it no longer has the cushioning she requires. I can get around things a bit easier, but still move like I need to squeeze, and that makes me look like I'm up to no good. I had some of these issues with the first surgery, but the effects came much more slowly, so my adjustments were more easily accepted. This time, not so much. Not even after the gastric bypass did I have a figure. Now that I do, I don't look right.

But just because I'm struggling doesn't mean I've lost one iota of my venom for humanity as a whole. Once built, or stolen, I can just shoot my lethal laser gun at the global urban centers while wearing some dumbass latex cat suit.

FUCK THE WORLD

Love, Tin

PS: If you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes in this, chalk it up to unbridled anger combined with full body pain. Thank you.

The other day, I came across this article - and soon found myself in awe of the information the piece provided. It’s an image-heavy article, which means this post will also be image-heavy. I’m not copy-pasting the text, so I strongly suggest clicking this telling image to be taken to the full write-up, especially if you’ve had a breakdown, know someone who has had a breakdown, or you ever fell victim to one of my unexpected, late-night, inexplicable and incoherent ramblings via email, blog commentary, or any other method by which you and I maintain contact.

With each image that applies or have applied to my experience, I will share how it felt for me, if I suffered from the description in the picture. The first one here will show what will be behind the cut, should you decide to read further.

For me, this was not a sudden mindset, but a gradual one. In crises, I was always the one that held things together. I could switch off parts of my brain, and do what I needed to do at that moment in time. At the age of 12, I was the one who gave directions to the paramedics, when my great-grandmother had her massive stroke. Granny was a non-functioning, human-shaped manifestation of panic, and Aunt Tudi was frantically trying to get things ready for when the ambulance arrived to the point where, honestly, she was being a detriment to any progress we might could have had. It was only two days later that the upheaval found me, at which time I became non-functional for a period of time, just a few days. In times of turmoil, I realised I could take care of whatever situation I found myself, then release it all later in private. The only times I ever lost that ability was the night before Granny died in 1993. The doctors told us there was no hope, and she could die at any moment. Since Granny also helped to raise me, having lived with me all my life, I fell to pieces. But the next morning, when she died, I was cool as a cucumber. This was Aunt Tudi's mother, to whom she had been excessively close. This blow to her emotional well-being is something she never quite got over. I was the one who had to make Granny's arrangements, and I did so in a disconnected manner, devoid of bothersome emotions. Things needed to be done, and there was no one but me stepping up. I remember a cousin remarking that I had to be some sort of Vulcan, or just callous as hell.

I've been watching this guy's videos for a couple of months now, and all I can say is that his work is always fascinating and provocative. His latest, though, is downright pornographic for anyone (me) who dreams of the Alpaca Lips every single day. I love the fact that he references my homeslices over at The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement. Click the pic to visit their fine spot of virtual real estate.

A few minutes ago, I needed a flashlight to check Smidgen's food inventory, but the one I have wouldn't come on. Times like that make me wonder how quickly things would go bell end if we lost electricity. And, as usual, Cadmus had something to say:

"Why do you brutish animals cozen up to the idea that you are somehow the pinnacle of creation, strolling down the streets in freshly polished shoes, no doubts under the sun that you were given dominion? What drives you to strive, or say you do, toward a goal that will forever be out of your reach? Is it conceit or madness? Perhaps both?

"Descry, child: What you really are, are a few dark nights away from committing savageries that make even my own accomplishments pale in comparison."

I think this gif here is an almost perfect example of the smugness and disdain I heard.

It occurred to me early this morning, watching a part of the movie “I’m Gonna Git You Sucka,” that the whole deal of my biting my thumb at society for bullying me wasn’t so much a taking back of my power, but a recognition that I lost my power long ago, and felt the path of least resistance was to call myself that name first, or make the joke about my weight first, or be the first one to laugh my arse off, if I happened to fall, or say something awkwardly, or pretty much wake up breathing that day.

The taking of my own Tease Tin Flag coincided with my first nervous breakdown, after realizing that my final foray into the realm of normal, where people enjoy one another’s company, and date, and fall in love, and likeminded people can participate in groups and have the most wonderful things happen, was more than a little disastrous. I knew in 1998 that I would never fit in anywhere, that I would forever be that outsider who got laughed at because of my separateness. What happened was, I subconsciously said to the world: “Fuck it. I’m a freak. Let me inform you on how deep the freakiness burrows, before you open your mouth and try to tell me what I already know.” But another thing happened, too. All the hate poured upon me by my peers, stopped rolling off my back, as it had always been instructed that it should. No, I began to absorb that hatred, and I realized I hated the world just as much as it apparently hated me. A reaction? Perhaps. Equal and opposite? No doubt, for quite some time.

When I began to find a niche on the Internet, I channeled both the resigned outcast and the furious pariah. They became two sides of the coin I figured must be me. Now, there’s a part of me that shivers with concern if I ever didn’t take up the “I suck” banner before anyone could open their mouths. Would my “All Y’All Need To Die, RIGHT NOW” banner also have to remain grounded? And who am I, if I’m anyone at all, without carrying these flags in my hands? The coin has two sides, but is there really anything in the middle?

Am I doing myself a disservice if I stop putting myself down, with the expectation that I headed the world off at the pass? Am I doing people a disservice, thinking that this is exactly what they’re going to do, because it’s what people fucking do? It’s not that I don’t give people the opportunity to prove me wrong, but am I harming them by concluded they're dicks, which places the burden of disproof firmly at their feet? Ah, but wouldn’t it mean that the people I truly love, also unconditionally love me as well? Is there not a soul on this planet for whom I’ve made it ridiculously impossible for them to get to know me, or for them to even insinuate themselves just a smidge, in the attempt to do so?

Does any of this really matter?

Yes. I would say yes. The “RL” friends who let me drift away from them during the point of my worst life experience...I can’t say they abandoned me, but I freely admit demanding isolation. But sometimes, the one thing a person rails against, is often the thing that person needs. When it was happening, and even now to a point, I see that period of history in my life to be one of dropping the friendship ball by the most unexpected persons ever. Why do I say they dropped the ball, when I was isolating so successfully? There’s one thing you never do when you have a friend going through a crisis that compels them to withdraw for a while: Give up on her/him. Other things come under that umbrella rule of thumb. Don’t be your typical passive/aggressive, dysfunctional, Emo self every single time you’re around her. Listen to what she has to say or, if she doesn’t want to talk, don’t invariably turn the conversation more in your direction. And, especially if she doesn’t want to talk, remain with her in silence. Sometimes, the presence of a warm body can speak levels of comfort we’ve yet to realize.

All that aside, I wonder how many people prone to self-deprecation were tormented as kids and simply opted to take the work out of it for the assholes, and just tear themselves down as a way to avoid the humiliation and agony of having it done to them. Until yesterday, I saw the act as empowering. Now, I’m just wondering if my self-abuse is making it easy for the very people I want to see inconvenienced in every imaginable way. By the same token, I wonder how many people who have the habit of self-deprecation were made so miserable when they were kids, they simply know no other world view by which to gauge their lives.

So I went to my second therapy session today. John, the therapist, is pretty groovy. He's a total Hippie, anti-establishment, laid-back like whoa. He seems to think I'm on the right track as far as seeking anything and everything that will make me laugh, saying the effort will balance out the grief. I told him the only problem I have with my Quest for Hilarity is, I've discovered the only thing I dislike more than crying in public, is laughing by myself.

He seems to think it would do me some good to connect to other people, so I had to tell him about my feelings regarding humanity. It's kind of hard to forge friendships when you think your own species is comprised of mostly dickheads and arseholes. Besides, I can't really go out and socialise with anyone when I can't bloody drive. He said we'd work on this at length.

My response to theafaye reminded me of my favourite quote from my favourite character in The Matrix, so I figured I'd post it here. I think I have done this before, many years ago, but it should be refreshed. The quote is timeless and full of wisdom, that is, if you're a misanthrope with a great fondness for your planet, like myself. So enjoy.

I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species and I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment but you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You're a plague and we are the cure.

A year ago, I was happier than I might have ever been. I was surrounded by friends and immersed in a secret. I was an active part of a crackerjack team to help a talent along as he began to bloom before thousands of people. Yes, there were problems, and yes, I could have handled those problems much more proactively than I did. Had I done so, I may still be a part of that group...and that group may be be drastically different than what it is now. If that experience did only one thing for me, it verified my believe that people will screw you every chance they get and that it's best to just work alone. I'm never going to find myself in a situation like that again. It's difficult to care about the cause and realise others are only out for money and their own glorification. Never again.

It's hotter than Hell here, so I'm writing this from Hell...just like good ole Jack. I'm gonna do this in bullets 'cos I left my knives on Cleveland Street.

Counselor: The session went well today. It was shorter than normal 'cos I had other stuff that needed doing and Rosa was getting over an inner ear infection that had affected her throat and, therefore, her voice. We talked about my dreams. It was interesting having someone interpret my dreams instead of doing the interpreting myself (not that I've done that in a while). She was unsurprised by the dream I had where I hit a pedestrian then cut my own throat with some of the glass from my car when I saw what I'd done. She said creative types often have bloody dreams. Groovy. I don't go back to see her until the 29th of this month. I'd been going every week, so I must be doing something right.

Aunt Tudi's doctors appointments were SNAFUs as usual. Her health is all fucked up and they aren't certain what to do. One doctor did nothing and, when she asked what she was supposed to do, his nurse suggested she contact a different doctor in the interim, as this doctor was going to be out of town for the next two weeks. Vacations must be nice.

Wal-Mart was insane. School is out, so the entire store rang with the screams, cries, and incoherent babbling of the damned little chil'ren. By the time we got out of there, I was screaming, crying, and babbling incoherently. When I got out to the car, I couldn't help noticing the vehicle next to me. The tires were so slick, the tread was screen-printed on them. Really, folks? Really? Why even buy gas? Just put your car in gear and slide everywhere. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick.

I'm home now. I'm in pain and crazed from lack of sleep. I doubt I'll nap, but I'll think about it at length.

I got up at the crack of dawn to get ready to spend the whole of my morning and part of the afternoon at the Barnyard flea market with Aunt Tudi. Nothing makes me happier than to peddle my belongings to holier-than-thou Rednecks on a Sunday morning in the Bible Belt. I'd rather gnaw on a raw ball and socket joint fresh off a hyaena corpse that's been lying in the equatorial sun long enough to bloat up than do this, but do it I must. I'm taking the computer with me so I can maybe get in some writing (if that's possible at all) and ignore the uncontrolled stupidity that's burgeoning all around me as the slack-jawed local yokels come and paw my stuff whilst they grin blankly at us as though we should thank them for their intrusion and failure to part with their money so that we can get the hell out of there earlier than 1 PM.

Before we got to come home, Aunt Tudi wanted to go by Wal-Mart and pick up some milk and drinks. Wal-Mart on a Friday is the next closest thing to Hell I can imagine, the first being stuck in a room with no Internet and a constant pipeline of Country music. Now Aunt Tudi has this habit of telling me that we're ready to leave Wally World and, as I'm cutting flips to the front of the store, she suddenly puts the brakes on my glee by saying "Oh my! Not yet! I forgot to get [insert inane consumer item here]." This item is invariably at the back of the store. Why I always fall for her saying it's time to leave is beyond me. Maybe the need I feel in the very marrow of my bones to get out with of Wal-Mart the minute I set foot in the place is the reason for my clouded judgment.

Today, it was pickle relish. She forgot the pickle relish for tuna salad. My version of tuna salad is a blob of mayonnaise in the middle of a blob of tuna, mix vigourously, plop on bread, and nosh. But Aunt Tudi is a tuna salad connoisseur, so pickle relish must be had. She'd also mentioned a loaf of bread, so I suggested I'd go get the bread while she backtracked to get the pickles. I took the cart because I was heading in the right direction and could hold our inane consumer items hostage, if need be, until Aunt Tudi gave in and agreed to leave with me.

On my way to the bread, I ran into a snag, in the form of....children. They were in my way. They were between me and the bread I needed. There were four of the little things, two of which were obviously "BFFs" because they were about 7 and holding hands...awwwww, isn't that cute? ::balls fists and places them together, squinching up my face in pure childhood squee'ness:: Every time I tried to get around them and their typically oblivious mother, the BFFs would barr my way. After the third time of this insanity, I chuffed loudly. The woman looked up and gave me this "oh ya know kidz rite?" look, which I did not return, because I don't want to know her kids nor anybody else's. A little confused that she wasn't getting the motherly code signs in return, she said to the BFFs, "Girls, I hope you get run over! I swear, you've been nothing but trouble in here and, if you keep this up, you're gonna get your toes squished! Now move over here and let this lady pass."

As I began to walk by them, the woman continued her sweet-talking diatribe. "Now, please try to stay out of the way. You are really going to get your toes squished and then someone is gonna feel bad." She then flashed me a "ya know kidz rite?" grin, I guess in the hope that I would clue in to the whole code sign thing and we could do the Breeders Bond. I flashed her something back. I flashed her my smirk with just a slight tightness of the eyes. Just like Jeff Goldblum getting his arse chased by a T-Rex (not the band, although that's scary too), the woman was "fairly alarmed" because, when I flash this particular expression to parents, it squeegees away any hope they may have had that I would understand their brats' poor behaviour or their own obvious lack of parenting skills. And this person, with her brood and their attached BFF, caught me on a particularly rancid day. Actually, I've had a series of them, but each consecutive day simply tells me that I need to avoid the Great Unwashed Masses until I'm feeling a tad more charitable. She may think I don't understand Breeder (which I do, I just choose not to acknowledge it as a language), but I got no doubt whatsoever that she understands...well, whatever it is I am. She gathered her kids around her very quickly and removed herself and them from the bread to which I needed access so I could get out of Wal-Mart.

Now, what could she have possibly seen in my tiny little grin? Well, I know what was going through my head when she said "You are really going to get your toes squished and then someone is gonna gonna feel bad." I remember it like it was just four hours ago! If my glance in her direction allowed this woman to read my mind, this is what she heard: Oh, you've got the wrong chica here, you barely-sentient brood sow. Nothing would please me more than to squish your dirty little brats' toes with my cart's wheels. In fact, if I had the chance, I'd affix their heads to the floor with some Krazy Glue, which can be found on aisle three in hardware, and slowly squish them instead with my Monster Truck Birkenstocks. No no, lady. I don't play the "ya know kidz rite?" game. Take your walking petri dishes and your limited brain capacity to the next aisle so I can get my bread and get out of here before I come hunting you down with a stolen tube of Krazy Glue.

I got my bread. About that time Aunt Tudi came up with the pickle relish. Holding my breath until we actually got to check-out, I was then confident in the fact that we'd be leaving Wal-Mart and I wouldn't have to make quick detour to hardware, aisle three, to pick up a little needed tool of the trade...

Whee! I finally shut down around 11 last night and got up shortly after 5 this morning. Glorious sleep, albeit scrunched up on the love seat. Now, I'm listening to the playlist for the latest fic I was hijacked into writing and, yes, I'm writing it. And it's not because of anything anyone said to me or did to me. Although the collective, yet separate actions of others prompted me, it was something I said to someone the other day that compelled me to proceed.

"Nothing is unprintable. That's a law somewhere....and nothing should be unwritten."

So, in the end, I hijacked myself; therefore I must write.

Actually, I'm not writing on it yet. The entire story is in my head, so it shouldn't take very long once I get to rolling. It will pre-date The Nurse's Date which, chronologically, has always been the first in the series. And it will pre-date that story by several years, at least five or more. Nothing will be recognisable in this story. Even the music used for the construction of the plot is a little different, using Sting, Dave Matthews, the Everly Brothers, even ELO and Three Dog Night. Of course, we have the regular musical influences of the Prodigy (the only band that's helped me write both Maul and J fic. Maybe it's their underlying hint of rage...::she says wryly::). I'm just listening to the playlist to prepare for later. I've got some serious inspiration for this one. I can see her very clearly now, which is wholly necessary for J to see her correctly. He has her in his sights now. It won't be long now. Well, once I get to writing it, it won't.

For now, I have something else to write, which I hope to have completed today. I can't show it yet, if it ever sees the light of day, that is. If it does, when I can, it'll be available to anyone who wants to read it. That's the first order of business for the day.

Second is some detective work, trawling through thousands of grammatical train wrecks to find the few, glimmering survivors. My only problem is that I'm going to have to take numerous breaks to verbally throttle some people, which will end up making me take even more time I really don't have. But some people just need to be flicked between the eyes with forefinger and thumb. I know...reticent much? I'm just marking moments for my own reference later when I'm tromping through my burgeoning archive trying to find something. If it's not there, I can't find it, so here it be. When the inscrutability can be blown aside, I'll reference back to this post with a post that explains all.

Still working on the Joker Blogs site with the aim to make it like a Daft Punk song: "Harder Better Faster Stronger." And I had to take a bit of a break last night before I fell out to do a little business with gunslingaaahhh in this corner of the world. I swear, if I had the power to Force throttle by way of Teh Intarwebs, there'd be Admiral Ozzels lying about all over the world. If you get that reference, then that's why we're friends. Anyway...gotta keep the Dude's back. I can't stand it when uninformed nudnicks go skittering about like little bugs mouthing off about matters they know not.

As far as Force throttling, here's a happy little song passed on to me by booraven22.

I'm really quite fond of that song. I see it as a kind of anthem. Maybe it'll be what we'll all hear when the Terrifying Squeegee of God (tm) comes to squitch humanity out of existence in...::checks watch::..a little less than 3.5 years. Wouldn't that be hilarious to hear this song ringing from...wherever and it be the last thing you ever hear? I think about these things.

Oh, I got sidetracked. This is what happens when I sleep after an insomnia jag.

After I work on the aforementioned projects, I'll work on the new Date. It won't be finished today, obviously. Maybe by the end of the week. And I find it kind of ironic that this first story in the chronology will be the last I write in the series. I know I've said that many times before, but I mean it this time. Seriously, I mean it. It's got to end. For me at least. J will always have to have dates, so somebody has to take up the torch. Maybe rancid_rainbow herself? Perhaps paisleydaze? Or you? I don't own J and I don't dictate his dating habits. It's a series. If it continues, no lawsuits will be forthcoming. I'm not big on the law and I hate suits, unless they're of the Zoot variety. If they are, please...call me ::makes hand phone sign and nods suggestively::

Okay, off to work. And a happy tip of the hat to you all. As Barry says, soonsoon!

A friend of mine and I were discussing psychology and how someone one on a message board, a avowed psychopath, presented flawless logic about the state of humanity. We bantered back and forth a bit about this person's uncanny insight, when I wrote this.

It's always been my contention that, turn off the electricity for three days, and we'll see this civilised mask that humanity wears so smugly, ripped off by the hungry, angry mob. Within a week, public burnings and torture would become the new entertainment, within a month, slavery would be the norm and a feudal system of rule would be established (if they're lucky).

Humanity has always been nothing more than chimps in clothes, carrying clubs and waiting for the next big brawl. But they don't like to reminded of this, so they label those people who make their true state of existence as being psychopathic, sociopathic, or anti-social. It's easier to label someone than it is to look in the mirror.

Aunt Tudi just read this to me. It was a sign my paternal grandmother made and put on a chain that she pulled across the driveway to her home in Asheville.

If you are uninvited and/or unexpected, you are also unwelcome. Please leave and telephone for permission and/or an invitation to visit.Our telephone number is unlisted and unpublished so that only those people we wish to have our number will be given access to it. If you do not have our number then that fact should indicate to you our feelings on the matter.Please do not go away angry.Just go away.

While Aunt Tudi and I were out paying bills today (while we still can, that is), I spied a woman be-bopping around with a blue mask over her face, and I thought about something: wouldn't it be hilarious if all these bozos wearing anti-bug masks ended up with cancer caused by a chemical used in making the masks, and they all ended up withering away from that despite surviving the OMG Pandemic? I know that's an "awful thing" to think, but for god's sake, this whole swine flu thing is ridiculous. If they start having to pile the bodies up and burn them, I might take it a little more seriously. Until then, it's nothing more than a minor outbreak of a minor bugaboo. The regular flu is, so far, much deadlier.

And those masks? Does "pocket full of posies" ring a bell, anyone? Get a freakin' clue! Nothing is going to prevent your getting this thing if it crosses your path and your immune system isn't ready to fight it off. Get on with your pathetic lives and stop making me write such misanthropic posts! Wait a minute... I changed my mind. What would I write about if humanity suddenly got its collective shit together? I'd have to shut down the Cliffs of Insanity! The blog would become misanthropically bankrupt and go begging for bail-out stupidity just to hang on by its fingernails. Please, people, please keep on being stupid!

And, if this H1N1 Super-Dooper Captain Trips Mutant Piggy Bug happens to kill the majority of us off, my only prayer, should I be one of the unlucky survivors, is that my fellow survivors remain as slack-jawed stupid as the current population.

::skips off singing that special little "nursery rhyme" so beloved of the little children::

Oh, before I get back to The Nun's Date, I need to write about another sign of the Alpaca Lips. Swine Flu is back and threatening to be a pandemic. I know it's wrong of me to be slapping my hands together and rubbing them enthusiastically, but I am. Now, before people start tut-tutting me, I'm hoping I get it too, so don't think I'm some sort of hypocrite, mmmkay? When it comes to disease, the more the merrier, is all I'm saying. Humanity is a virus. Agent Smith said so. We need a little bit of a reality check. I remember the Swine Flu from the 70s. A revisitation of this happy little bug might be just the thing to serve us up a hefty portion of Humble Pie, even if it means the abrupt end to the Cliffs of Insanity.

If you think that anyone can be guilty of making a racist comment or performing a racist act, including you, and that you are willing to take ownership of your statements and actions, resist blaming the person who was offended, figure out why they were taken as racist, apologize, and not do it again, post this exact sentence in your journal.

Oh man, I've made so many mistakes in this arena, all because of stupidity more than intended racism, it's just ridiculous. If you're in the South, you're surrounded by latent and blatant racism. There's no getting away from it. Oddly, there was reverse racism that was rampant in Asheville schools when I was growing up. You didn't look a black kid in the eye if you were white out of fear of getting your butt whipped right there in the hall. Looking back on it and knowing that pesky Law of Physics, I understand what was going on now. It almost turned me into a hater, but it didn't.

Besides, I don't discriminate against people because of the colour of their skin. I despise all humanity equally. BWAAAHAHAHAHA!

I doubt I'll ever get to go, but I'd really love to visit Yellowstone National Park. Actually, I'd like to go there, or some other large chunk of wilderness, and just disappear. I probably wouldn't survive because I'm a big ninny, but at least I'd go out on my own terms instead of being a corporate slave with no hope of ever having a vacation to visit Yellowstone. The closest I'll probably get is the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I'd be going home if I escape to there and it's so much closer than Yellowstone.

I'm not the only one who's pondered running off to the wilderness when our society collapses. There's a bevy of people around here who have the same idea, so I figure I'll have to fight some assholes for a patch of forest to share with the beasties. Like other good Americans, I guess I should learn how to shoot a gun, a big one, then buy one. A big one.

Being a super volcano, Yellowstone is long overdue for a massive explosion, or so some scientists contend. When it happens, it could render humanity extinct. Maybe it'll blow in 2012. ::rubs hands vigourously::

Aunt Tudi had her labs and sat down with a dietitian. The dietitian, Mary, was very detailed when giving Aunt Tudi advice on what to eat and not to eat. She gave her a list of foods and dietary suggestions and I took extensive notes on the computer, so I think Aunt Tudi should be set on knowing her restrictions. Now, it's just a matter of having money to buy the foods she needs to eat! This is why rich people and breeders live longer than poor people with no children. They have the money, or food stamps, to buy the right foods! Blah...

I'm sorry for being so cynical. I just feel like a complete failure when it comes to taking care of Aunt Tudi the way she needs and then I stand at the dollar store, checking out the fucking dregs of society who don't deserve the food stamps that they have while they buy copious amounts of junk food and pop while Aunt Tudi sits at home eating all the wrong things because they're cheap. Then this makes me so upset, I end up writing run-on sentences, which pisses me off even more. I swear to Bob, I'm this far away - from crawling into a tower with a gun and just going out with a freakin' bang! And, trust me, I'd target all those well-fed fuckers who don't deserve to share the fucking air we breathe with Aunt Tudi.

But anyway.... We swung by Dr. Crackyerbones to see if he could work me in. He could. I went back to one of the rooms and he cracked my bones, at which time I asked him if he'd ever seen that stand-up by Eddie Izzard about the chiropractor we saw after his snowboarding accident. He said no so I asked if he'd like to. He said yes. I'll be taking Dress to Kill the next time I go see Dr. Crackyerbones. If he has a DVD player on site, I'll pop that booger in right then and show him the extent of my knowledge about chiropractors before I went to visit him. I think that he will laugh.

So that's done. All that's left is for me to mow the grass for the last time this season! I'll have four, maybe five months of lawn care bliss. At least that's one good thing.

I pernear lost my temper with this dumbass woman trying to use her EBT card today. All she had to do was swipe the friggin' card and follow the instructions on the pinpad, but I had to walk around the register and help her do it twice before she realised that she didn't have enough money to buy the food she was attempting to purchase. I wanted to scream at her "STUPID PEOPLE DON'T DESERVE TO EAT!" and slap her upside the head with a loaf of bread. I mean what's so difficult about pressing a four-digit pin number and then pressing OK? What was this woman's malfunction? I know that part of it is my PMDD not being treated at all for the past four months, and each month I get a little closer to wanting to exact physical violence on the unsuspecting public, but I wouldn't be inclined to do so if the Great Unwashed weren't so bloody infuriating! I had to get the assistant manager Andrea to help me help this moron in shoes. Once everything was paid for, the woman kept spinning the bag rack and looking at all the empty bags. Then she asked, "Iz awl mi stuuff in wun baig?" And I said under my breath, "No, I put one item in fifteen different bags, then hid them all in plain view, you freakin' idiot." I thought Andrea was going to swallow her tongue to keep from barking laughter right then and there.

Oh, and I've discovered the first sign of Retail Insanity: it's when you start talking to your scanner when it won't scan a piece of merchandise, basically begging it to comply so you can get the fool in sweatpants out from in front of you before you reach out and rip its throat out with your bare hands.

Two notable things happened at the Dollar General tonight, one good and one bad.

The good thing: I made this woman cackle til she almost spit out her dentures. She came in looking for a white pen that you use to write on car wind shields and back windows (like "just married" and whatnot) because she wanted to write Happy Birthday on her teenage son's car. Steve directed her over to school supplies, where they used to be, and she asked if I'd show her where that was, so I led her over to that section of the store. We stood over there for what seemed like ages looking for something I felt certain we didn't have. She picked up a Sharpie permanent marker and asked if she could use that and I told her that I'd strongly recommend she did not. Then I suggested that she check over in automotive because this pen was technically for cars. If we had what she needed, it would be over there since it wasn't in school supplies. She went her way and I went back up front. A few minutes later she came up with a tiny bottle of white out, the kind that comes with the microscopic brush, and she got in line at Steve's register. Well, I happened to turn around and see what she had and I did a double-take before I caught myself. She saw me and laughed, saying "You must think I'm crazy getting this, but it's the only thing I could find."

"No, I don't think you're crazy, but you might be writing 'happy birthday' on your son's car this time next year. Heck, you may want to start writing 'happy 49th birthday' with that teentsy brush."

Well, she just lost it. Even Steve, who's a bigger misanthrope than I and never laughs, laughed. That made me feel good, because sometimes I say things before I think and I could have easily offended her. And, being a psychic Vampire, laughter gets my wheels to turning like nothing else. So yeah. It was good.

The bad thing: And it was a really bad thing. It was very busy at the store and I was checking out one lady with four other people waiting when this drunk bastard ran into the store and said he needed to use the bathroom. At the Dollar General, the cashier has to unlock the bathrooms for customers. I had my register drawer open giving this lady her change when the drunk bastard ran in, so I had to tell him to please wait for just a minute. He slurred, "oh lord, oh lord," and wibbled toward the bathrooms. I gave the lady her change, apologised to the waiting customers, and rushed after the dude with the key. And I slid in something and almost busted my arse. When I looked down to see what it was, thinking it might have been shampoo since I was right at the baby shampoo, I saw a smear of vomit on the floor. He had left a trail of vomit from the baby section all the way to the water fountain, in which he deposited large chunks of pasta and booze. Steve couldn't clean the floor because he's extremely suggestible and would have puked himself, so I mopped the floor, but I couldn't do the fountain because I'm highly suggestible too. We left the fountain for the morning crew, both of us squicked beyond our wildest dreams nightmares.

Oh, one other good thing. It appears I'm doing a hell of a job at Dollar General. I'm coming out on top on all my reports, out-doing my veteran coworkers. When Tami took me to the office to explain the reports and tell me how I was doing, I automatically assumed I was about to be chewed out, because that seems to be the trend I'm in at the mo, getting dumped on by any- and everybody. But she wanted to tell me how good a job I'm doing. I told her what I'd thought she wanted to talk to me about, and how my day had been pretty crappy, so this was most excellent since I was this close ( - ) from just breaking down and crying my eyes out. She patted me on the shoulder and told me not to worry, that it was all good, and she appreciated my efforts. Then she asked if she could do anything to help out. She's a good manager, and a good person. The managers at Ingles could take a few pointers from her.

Speaking of Ingles, I have to be at the bakery at 6 in the morning. I work until 10, then I go back at 4 and work til 8. What a day! I'm tired already.

I went to my orthopædist this morning with the hope that he'd go ahead and see me even though I only had $100 of the $203 I owe him. Before I even got to sit down, I was dragged into the financial officer's office to pay my bill. She talked to me like I was a dog (this seems to be a pattern in my life right now, being talked to and treated like a dog by various people in so-called power) and went through this whole drama of going back to talk to the doctor to see if he'd be benevolent and see me, even though I'm poor trash who can't pay my bills. About ten minutes later, she returned and said, "You're lucky he's feeling generous today. You may go ahead and pay the $100, but you need to get more money into us as soon as you can. You don't go get your car fixed and then just drive off without payment, so you can do that here either." I'm quoting her here. What she said is emblazoned on the surface of my brain like a brand of shame.

And I didn't even get to see Dr. Keith today. I saw the nurse practitioner, who diagnosed me with bursitis in my left shoulder. I got an injection in my shoulder and one in my knee, and was sent off with a prescription for pain medication and the orders to follow up as needed. That translates as "follow up when you have money and not a damned day sooner." Maybe now I won't be waking up in godawful pain two or three times a night and working in constant pain every day...until the shots wear off, that is. Meh.

I just feel like I'm gonna lose it if one more person treats me like I'm less than the gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. This latest interlude of human malice does wonders for my already high level of misanthropy. But...onto happier matters, like pink elephants.On my way home, I saw in the distance what looked like a pink elephant on wheels. Thinking back to yesterday, I made certain I hadn't had a few snifters for my birthday and that I was suffering from hallelujah-fascinations as a result but, no. I was sober yesterday and was even more so today. So I sped up to catch up to the offending vision. Sure enough, it was indeed a pink elephant on wheels and I have the pictures to prove it!

Now, I'm not certain that the house is really haunted, but it sure looks it. I'd love to live there, or at least spend one night in the house. I'd probably emerge the next morning with snow white hair and a blank stare on my face, but I'm inclined to that any day as it is, given my spiritual connections with Nadine Cross. Speaking of haunted houses, the creepy nurse in the remake of House on Haunted Hill is none other than the woman who played Gozer the Gozerian. Hm. You learn something new every day!Nothing lifts my spirits more than taking pictures of the furry family members, so I'm featuring Motley and Riley in this post. When Motley spends quality time with Aunt Tudi, she invariably ends up standing on her head to show her affection. Why? Because she's a loon. And Riley? Well, Riley is just as crazy as hell. You can tell by the look in his eyes. The picture of him gazing off to the sky looks like he's in deep prayer. He probably is.

I'm gonna do my best to chill out for the next 45 minutes before I head into work at the Dollar General. My knee and shoulder are about to kill me, but I'm sure they'll feel better by tomorrow, once those shots begin to take effect. It's just a matter of getting through the night, then all will be okies.

doesn't mean I'm stupid. Actually, in my opinion, misanthropy is a sign of a higher then normal IQ, although that could be my ego talking. To admit that one is a member of a species so absolutely reprehensible takes a great deal of courage and insight, in my not-so-humble opinion and to wish for the eradication of said species, oneself included, indicates a wisdom that usually surpasses that of humanity as a whole.

If we stopped trying to control the lives of our fellow Earthlings and spent our efforts on controlling ourselves instead, the world and its inhabitants would be so much better off. Not so much if we were rendered extinct overnight, but it would be a start in the right direction.

If you are uninvited and/or unexpected, you are also unwelcome.Please leave and telephone for permission and/or an invitation to visit.Our telephone number is unlisted and unpublished so that only those people we wish to have our number will be given access to it.If you do not have our number, then that fact should indicate our feelings on the matter.Please do not go away angry.Just go away.

I'm making this post a friends-only post so as to avoid any more tension for one of my pals in whose journal this bullfunky began. I left the person to his/her opinion out of respect for my friend, who doesn't deserve a poo-flinging contest in her journal.

I just got an invitation to kill myself and be the first in the (hopeful) extinction of Humanity. Never have I said I want to see all of us disappear without including myself in that, but I won't do myself in and lose the chance of missing out on the Alpaca Lips. That would be daft of someone who relishes the idea of such an occasion, but that doesn't mean I set myself apart or above my fellow species.

If someone is so bloody serious about "saving the future" or "saving the Earth," they're most likely fluffy bunny idjits who deserve to feel the heat of the Inquisitors' brand. If you can't take Humanity or its inevitable demise as a joke, then you're not going to be any help to your "cause" anyway.

Maybe I'm too jaded. Maybe I'm too much of a cynic. Hell, I'm probably both. In fact, I'm almost certain of it. But people who are keen on a New Age for Humanity or saving the Earth make me want to vomit. Mother Earth can take care of herself. Why do you think the weather is so fucked up? She's trying to balance out a situation that we created. If Humanity was fighting Mother Earth in a boxing match, I'd place my bets on Earth. She's bigger, stronger, and older than all of us put together. She will kick our collective arse long before we have a chance to achieve Enlightenment. We're destroying our habitat. Once it's gone, Earth will no longer support us, we'll die, and we'll be replaced with something stronger and better than we. It'll be a beautiful thing, man. Beautiful.

All I can say is that it takes a pretty petty and shallow individual who resorts to inciting suicide in response to someone who has an obviously drastically different opinion to their own. Variety is the spice of life. If everyone who didn't agree with the Advancement of the Human Race decided to jump off a bridge, it'd be a pretty boring world that would still self-destruct in good time, probably faster 'cos there'd be no misanthropist around to bring down the morons with the miraculous opposable digit a notch or two.

We're watching a show on the Donner Party. Those people knew how to paaaahhhh-taaaay! I wouldn't mind having a great big Donner Party and inviting certain individuals.

Seriously.... The Donner Party is proof positive that humans aren't so far beyond our innate bestial nature. It wouldn't take very much or very long for all of us to supposedly revert and become the savages that dwell just underneath the skin, chomping at the bit to reveal themselves and take over our thin morals and civility. We've convinced ourselves that we'd never do something like what the Donner Party did. Au contraire! Our society needs to be knocked down a few notches or so. We need to be reduced to cannibalism and savagery in order to fully appreciate what it means to be human. We are all pretend humans with our anti-bacterial soaps, indoor plumbing, and microwave ovens.

So, I say bring it on! But I always say that don't I? Words cannot express how much I want to see our civilisation collapse, to see all these germ-free kids grubbing in the filth for a little shred of food, to see the 'highest class' person be stoned to death by the 'rabble' and devoured in a stone soup, to see logical individuals huddled around fires at night genuinely afraid of the dark. The Donner Party will seem wise then. They'll seem to be the most ingenious of survivors. People will follow in their footsteps. Yeah.

And that includes me, if I even survive, which I probably wouldn't 'cos I'm Queen Ninny. I've always said "god help whomever is with me, 'cos they're gonna end up being travelling partner tartar if we ever hit a snag where survival becomes an issue." Yeah, I know all about my inner savage. You'll be lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack if you're travelling with me.

A reporter just said that, referring to all the babies being born in New Orleans. What the fuck? All babies look the same: like little mushed up hideous wieners. No baby is beautiful. It was just squeezed out of a very stinky small space into a big frightening world that instantly makes it cry. It's a miserable little lump of ugly.

And everyone seemed so happy that there's a baby boom in NO. Oh yeah, that's exactly what we need: more humans. The more humans there are mucking up the place, the more natural disasters there will be in a (futile, I sometimes think) attempt at restoring some sort of natural balance to the world.

So, no, they're not beautiful. They're an assembly line of fugly parasites that will only make things worse in the long run.

As I've stressed before, I'm not a nice person. I'm not a good person. I'd say that I'm pretty much Chaotic Neutral. I'm not nice in that I harbour a great disdain and dislike for my fellow Humans. My misanthropy is far-reaching and engulfs even myself. When I pray for the Alpaca Lips, I don't think that I'll survive it to see the aftermath. In fact, I take the coward's route and hope to the Mighties that I am one of the first to go when the Alpaca Lips gets into full swing. I want to be at ground zero if the Bomb hits. I want to wheeze my last breath in the first group of flu or plague victims.

Right now I'm doing a very bad thing by re-reading The Stand by Stephen King. It's only my second reading, my first being in 1980 when I was 12 years old. Even then I could appreciate the wonder of a population-decimating event, but I'm appreciating it even more this time around. I have 26 years of cynicism built up now, 26 years of disappointment in Humanity. Nothing would please me more than to see Stephen King's Alpaca Liptic novel come true.

I know I've said this before, but maybe I joked about it too much. It's not a joking matter to me, really. I truly hope that the Avian or Bird Flu is the One. I hope we have abandoned homes and businesses. I thrill at the thought of quiet highways and silent cities. I am not a good person.

Humanity needs a serious decrease in population and deserves an ass-kicking by some natural force that makes no bones about being outside the realm of Human control. We need to be reminded that we are not in control of this planet or even ourselves to a great degree. We need to lose our capacity for civilisation and be eaten by the wolves for a while. And the Western World needs to get a taste of something this horrific more than any other place on Earth. I'm hoping that Mother Nature leaves Africa alone for once. They've suffered more than enough and are still suffering thanks to Western policy. Let Humanity's homeland in peace! Let it prosper in the wake of worldwide destruction!

I've decided that, should I survive such a holocaust, I am going to go to all the local zoos and free the animals so they will at least have a fighting chance to survive instead of being locked up and helpless when the zookeepers call into work dead. Nothing would delight me more than to see a pride of lions establish dominance on the land that once was Hollywild. I doubt that I'll be one of the ones to be left after the flu flies through but, just in case, when I get my 401k money, I'm going to purchase some tools that will help me cut through bars and locks so I can fulfill my chosen task when the time comes.

If I do get sick with the flu, I need to make sure I go visit some folks at The Pit and be sure to seek out the Feudal Mistress for a drive-by snotting. I can't be put in jail for murder if I'm dead from the flu, can I? And there are so many who need killin'. I just want to make sure they aren't left out of the fray. Wouldn't it be my duty to give the flu to those deserving shitheads? I think it would be.

So, I've mapped out my plans. Spread the wealth if I get the flu, free the animals if I don't. I think that's pretty good. Now, if only the Avian Flu would hurry up and get here.

If I had access to a knife right now, I'd saw off my left leg right above the knee just to get rid of the knee. I have a new doc appointment, this time with Lisa, tomorrow at 1:15. Word.

The PMS Psychosis is much worse than it was earlier. My patience has run out with humanity as a whole and I am now prepared to lay waste to small villages. Instead, I'll lay waste to LJ. It's time to make some long overdue changes. Sith shouldn't care about hurt feelings and, when it comes to being fucking miserable in what is supposed to be my own space, neither should I!

This is where I should screech "DEATH TO ALL INFIDELS!" and start swinging the sword of justice.

Nothing is going to stop the spread of Bird Flu if the human assholes keep stuffing LIVE BIRDS in plastic bags. Such cruelty and disregard for living beings is what will karmically damn us all as a race. And we'll deserve it!

One funny thing: On the way home from GSP, Aunt Tudi was desperate to use the bathroom. I said something that tickled her and, when she laughed, she made mention that I should shut up and stop making her laugh 'cos she was going to pee. A few moments later, she said "If I wet on myself, I'm gonna shit!" Of course, this tickled us both, so I drove home crying from laughing so hard. I think I was entitled to ending our journey with a fit of hysterics.

Both Aunt Tudi and I are ecstatic and grateful to be home. We're both also mindbogglingly sore and achy, and we want to die in the arms of our beloved canines, Shmoop, and Smidgen.

I'm still uploading pictures from the trip. If anyone wants to see the entire album, you can go HERE, but check back 'cos this ain't all of them.

Of all the characters in The Matrix, Agent Smith is my favourite, for the simple reason of his explanation of Humanity to Morpheus:

I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet, you are a plague, and we are the cure.

I haven't helped or donated anything to the situation in the Gulf Coast yet. Yet. I feel terrible about what's happened and I'm sorry that so many people have been displaced, their lives in shambles.

HOWEVER

From what I've learned about hurricanes, they're nature's way of cooling off the oceans...and we're having a more active hurricane season because the oceans are warmer...and the oceans are warmer because of global warming...something Dubya contends does not exist and will not commit to trying to prevent...and Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama were all strong RED STATES.

Not to mention I am not fond of humans in general.

All that said, when I do donate some money (once I have my hot hands on my severance), I will be giving to the animal rescue organisations. The animals caught up in this horror aren't there by choice. Their human companions' ancestors were the brainiacs who thought building a city in a BOWL surrounded by WATER in an area prone to host HURRICANES was the most brilliant fucking idea they'd ever come up with. Their human companions are the ones who supported the beady-eyed sub-chimp whose policies will only encourage more numerous and violent hurricanes for the indeterminate future. Humans helped to create the mess in the Gulf Coast. The animals are the innocent victims here, as usual.

And honestly, if this had happened in a Blue State, I might be more inclined to help the humans because I'd think they were at least attempting to stop the insanity that oozes out of Washington DC like raw sewage. But we're talking about the South here, the very buckle of the Bible Belt. Most of these people voted for Dubya because they think God is on his side and theirs. Well, let God take care of them now. I'll do what I can to help the animals.

I was considering doing the Blogathon this year now that I have over 100 friends, but my inability to be at the computer the entire day today prevented my doing it. If I hadn't had to leave town, I would have so been involved for an animal charity. Personally, I think there are way too many human-centric charities. For the most part, we've all gotten ourselves into the fixes we're in, so we need to get ourselves out. This doesn't apply to incurable diseases and whatnot, but most other things, even supposedly helping the environment....sorry, but I'm a cold-hearted misanthropist who's cheering on the Alpaca Lips. The quicker we're all gone from the planet, the better off everything will be. The way I look at it, Mother Earth will heal Herself after the parasites are eradicated. She doesn't need our help. I think She's had enough of *our* help.

But I digress. Next year, I'm gonna do the Blogathon or die trying. Any charity that helps animals will be a candidate, except for PETA. PETA has lost their way, in my not-so-humble opinion. It seems to me that they're more about looking cool and obtaining a level of celebrity than they are about really helping animals. I'm thinking more along the lines of the ASPCA or WWF. I'm all for helping the beasties. I should do something to support my position instead of just yapping about it all the time. Actually, I used to donate to several animal charities, but I've been unable to do so for quite some time now.

It's time to take some sort of action. I just hate that I have to wait an entire year. Are there anymore things like Blogathong happening any sooner than that? Do let me know. In the meantime, shadesong is doing the Blogathon this year, so go check her out and help if you can. Word.

Inspired by something piperdawn wrote in her journal about some stupid, knuckle-dragging bitch she had the misfortune to encounter one fated day.

So you think animals are inferior to humans, do you? Let's look at the statistics.

Dogs can learn several different words in the language of the person with whom they live, yet that same person is incapable of correctly translating the nuances of the dog's vocalisations or body language in return...then we humans wish dogs could talk. I'm sure the dogs wish we humans could fucking understanding.

Dolphins have been known to save drowning humans and pull them to safety on numerous occasions. To show their thanks, humans capture and drown dolphins in their fishing nets or enslave them and make them do tricks for their hairless monkey children at places like Sea World.

Gorillas live in harmony with each other and their environment, taking only what they need and leaving the rest, instinctively knowing that you must leave behind remnants in order for Mother Earth to renew and therefore keep their tribe alive with nourishment and shelter. In glaring opposition, humans tend to strip the land on which they live, moving on to another fertile piece only to repeat the travesty. They engage in clearcutting, factory farming, and utter destruction all for the sake of instant gratification ~ luxury housing, luxury cars, gourmet foods, high fashion. And all for what? Temporary joys to help us ignore the fact that we can't breathe well or drink clean water anymore.

No other animal has created something as horrific as the atom bomb. Some will argue that they don't have the intelligence to develop such technology, but what sort of intelligence are we talking about here? How smart is it to invent something that causes Hell on Earth?

So people die and it's tragic, yeah. Animals die too, and I think it's more tragic because these animals that are unfortunate enough to be in the way of us humans trying to blow each other up don't deserve what they get for having to share this planet with us. No human is innocent of our collective sins, not even children. Just go to any playground and watch how those things treat each other: the ostracism, the torment, the fear. No animal should have to suffer or die because humans are ignorant deviations of the primate family.

We, as humans, all deserve to be blown to bits and leave the Earth to smarter creatures.